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25 May 1922
It is nice to know the poor little cat is out of its basket. Awful to love that cat as one does. I suppose you imagine I don't care a bean for him because I keep on talking of having him destroyed. To say that and see his little paws dodging in and out of the wool basket, & see him sitting in the scales or returning from his walk with paw uplifted stopping now and then. . . In fact I shall one day write a cat story which will be heart breaking! In the meantime I do hope he will not die & that you will give him an occasional sardine tail. . .
Its less fearfully hot here. There is a breeze. It has been terrifically hot until tonight (Saturday.) I went to the Louvre this afternoon & looked at Greek sculpture - wonderfully beautiful. The difference between the Greek and the Roman stuff is extraordinary; the Greek lives, breathes, floats; it is like life imprisoned - except that imprisonment sounds like unhappiness and there is a kind of radiant peace in the best of it. Scraps of the Parthenon frieze e figures greeting, and holding fruits and flowers and so on are simply divine. [To Ida Baker, 27 May 1922.]